


The Final Battle

by tinydipper



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Archdemons (Dragon Age), F/M, Final Battle, Grey Wardens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:37:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7768756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinydipper/pseuds/tinydipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hero of Ferelden and her party fight in the final battle against the archedemon, but the plan goes awry when Alistair pulls a brave move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Final Battle

The battle raged around her. Countless faces, friend and foe, flashed before her. Some were clad in dense helmets, some not fortunate enough to have had one given to them, or they couldn’t afford one. They probably wouldn’t last. The enemy, however, seemed to fight on without them, savage brutes that feared no death, fuelled by the Blight. She ducked under the swish of a blow, then drove the blade in her right hand into her attacker’s chest. It fell to the ground. One. She did not fear killing any longer, not after her journey. She had killed hundreds now in less than a year. She side-stepped another clanging sword and with with an upward thrust of her own downturned blade slit her assailant’s throat. Before she could draw breath again, another sword was thrust at her, which she parried with ease. The darkspawn blood she had consumed at her joining made her faster, stronger, than her foes and friends. The blighted creature pushed forward with its shield, clipping her on the shoulder. She spun and brought her blade down swiftly, severing its neck. A darkspawn, back turned, was occupied in a duel with another ally. She took the opportunity to strike her blade through its heart. She jumped from battle to battle, aiding her allies where she could. A massive brute swung its hammer in a wide circle, taking down two with its blow. They would not stand again. As its hammer slowed and it regained its posture, she used its hulking arm as a step and plunged her sword into its back. It fell under her, and before it hit the ground she jumped nimbly from its shoulder. Another enemy charged towards her, blade raised and spittle flying from its opened mouth. She reached out with her hand, drew the magic inside her, and pulled its neck sharply from under its head. She heard the snap before it hit the ground.  
The battle raged, seemingly incessantly. A small and swift darkspawn had left a laceration in her side. She attempted to heal it with bursts of her fledgling magic as she continued to fight. An arrow staggered her as it lodged itself in her right shoulder. She dodged an attack and stuck skillfully, felling her foe. Though tired and wounded, she fought on. She had learned to block out the pain, to focus on one thing: victory.  
And so the hours passed. She saved lives by slaying the terrible beasts, and yet she could not save them all. The foes were thinning, and she began to occasionally see two allies confront one enemy. She smiled slightly as she realized they were winning. But none of it mattered unless she could slay the archdemon. The leader of them all; the ultimate evil. A Grey Warden would have to sacrifice their life to save the thousands of others. But not this time, she thought. Through Morrigan’s twisted magic they both might yet live. She snapped another foe’s neck with the twist of her wrist. As it fell, she saw the archedemon behind it in the distance. It was on the ground, soldiers plummeting their swords into it. It swatted meagerly with a massive claw and sent two soldiers sprawling several yards away. It let out a whimper of a roar as it was punctured in the neck. Still it would not die. It could only be killed by a Grey Warden.  
She once more gathered the small amount of magic she had and pushed forward with her palm, sending the several darkspawn before her to the ground. She ran. Faster, she urged herself. Her legs burned. The heat from her breath stayed in a thickening cloud behind the shield of her helmet. A great weight slammed against her side. She was knocked to the ground, wind rushing from her lungs. Stunned, she rose onto one knee slowly, and looked up to face her assailant. A man stood before her in bloodied and beater Warden armor.  
“Alistair?”  
He glanced at her only a second before sprinting down her path to the archdemon. He was going to take the final blow. Her mind raced; had Morrigan’s magic really worked? She realized with dread that Alistair had not much faith in this twisted ritual, and perhaps she shouldn’t have as well. All hope that the spell had succeeded fled from her mind. He’s taking the blow for me.  
“Alistair!” She shouted as she jumped to her feet. She followed him as fast as she could, but he was too far ahead. He stood before the archdemon. She slowed to a jog. The only thing she could do now was pray. Pray to what? She didn’t care. The Maker, Andraste, the elven gods, whoever was listening; let the spell have worked. She saw him grab one of the twisted dragon’s cruel spines that ran along its neck and hoist himself up onto it. He sat before where the neck met the head. The archdemon swung its neck lazily, like a horse trying to misdirect a fly. He held on. She saw him raise his sword and plunge it deep into the monster’s spine; the killing blow. A great white light erupted before her, and a gale pushed her onto the ground. She heard others fall around her. The darkspawn in death, her allies in fear. The light blinded her.  
When it finally receded, all she could see were spinning red dots before her. Blinking furiously, she rose to her feet. She stumbled towards where the archdemon once was, world becoming clearer with every step. Her breath shook as she walked, slowly. Cheers erupted around her as the armies realized the threat had been destroyed. She remained solemn. Pushing her way gently through the crowd, she reached piles of ash, presumably where the archdemon had been. She scanned it thoroughly. There, a few yards before her, the glint of a helm. She jogged towards it and fell to her knees beside the body. She took her own helm off and dropped it to the ground along with her blades. Carefully, she removed Alistair’s helmet. It was sliced through on the side, but not enough to cause worry. Blood caked the side of his face. His eyes were closed.  
“Oh, come on, don’t do this,” she murmured, “not now.” She touched his cheek lightly with a gloved hand. Against her will, she felt the prickling of tears arise. She pressed her hand to his chest and grasped a leather fastening tightly. She leaned forward until her forehead was pressed against his breastplate. A tear ran down her nose, closely followed by another. She heaved a heavy sob, “Wake up. Come on, wake up. You have to wake up,” she pleaded, “Wake up,” She repeated this over and over until it became incoherent between messy sobs. Eventually she silenced herself and slowed her sobs, controlling her breath, trying to reign back the tears.  
“Is it dead?”  
Her eyes shot open and glanced at Alistair’s face. He was awake. He shakily raised himself onto an elbow and blinked blearily. “Hey,” he said weakly, “it’s dead.”  
Anger, fear, love, joy all overwhelmed her. “You-- you!”  
“Yeah, I’m alive, too. That’s pretty good, considering the odds. Guess the thing worked.”  
“How could you do something so horrible!” she burst out, fists clenched. “You--you had to be heroic! You just had to, didn’t you? Didn’t you?” she shouted with increasing intensity, “Why can’t you ever be selfish?”  
“I was being selfish,” he replied sheepishly, “you know I couldn’t live without you.”  
Her hands fell limply to her sides. She hung her head and she slowed her shaking breaths. He sobs resurfaced. She glanced up at him, “I love you,” she croaked.  
He sat up, groaning with the effort. She held on to one of his arms, supporting him. He put a bloodstained glove up to her pale face. “I love you too,” he smiled.  
She threw her arms around him and sobbed. He held onto her tightly.  
“We did it. Look what we did,” he said, pulling back. Crowds of people around them were rejoicing, embracing, smiling and laughing. “We won.”  
She smiled back with her tear-streaked face, “We won.”


End file.
